


A Dustland Fairytale

by monstermash



Series: Once upon a time in the West [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Lost Memory, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermash/pseuds/monstermash
Summary: I saw the devil wrapping up his hands,
  
  He's getting ready for the showdown.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [here's a playlist](https://8tracks.com/edmunderson/once-upon-a-time-in-the-west)
> 
> 1/23/18: Hey so I'm not gonna finish this. I've been trying to write the next chapter for so long but I'm not liking it or how I've written this so far. I'll come back to this at a later date and probably rewrite it completely because I'm just really not happy with it, but I will leave up what I've written so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this was originally male courier/arcade gannon but i was having some trouble writing it that way. like as much as i love arcade, this just works better with boone for me (boone and ed-e are my faves they're always the first companions i get tbh)

“A Dustland Fairytale” is a popular turn of phrase on the West coast – particularly in the Mojave – which for all intents and purposes can mean that something or someone is too good to be true, can’t possibly be real, or it can be used to describe as something as being so impossible that there’s no way it could have happened yet did.

Say for example, someone being shot in the head and then left in a shallow grave has no chance of living through it – an impossible chance – that is a dustland fairytale.

Or maybe a post-apocalyptic mailman taking down an entire army over the Hoover Dam.

Or a Courier meeting the Burned Man and lived to tell the tale, or surviving having their brain removed, or pulling off a heist from the Sierra Madre that was 200 years in the making, or walked out of the Divide in mostly one piece.

All these things, impossible yet true.

All dustland fairytales.

And like most stories, they begin with a death and with a birth of sorts, new life clawing its way out of the shallow grave the old one left behind.

\---  


“You’ve made your last delivery, kid.”

Head pounding and his vision blurry, surrounded by three strangers – the one in the tacky suit tucks the chip he was supposed to deliver into his suit jacket – this doesn’t look good.

“Sorry you got twisted up in this scene.”

The man doesn’t seem to be sorry at all, especially when he pulls out a gun.

“From where you’re kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is… the game was rigged from the start.”

He can feel his head snap backwards as the bullet imbeds itself into his brain. As his vision goes dark he swears the sound of blood rushing in his ears sounds just like Blue Moon.

The last thing he remembers seeing are the neon lights of New Vegas shining so bright that the image of its skyline is burned into his mind.

\----

When he wakes an older man who introduces himself as Doc Mitchell asks for his name. He opens his mouth ready to answer, but no name comes forth. He sits there for what feels like hours, mouth opening and closing and eyes wide.

Why can’t he remember?

Oh god why can’t he remember his name?

He realizes then that it’s not just his name he’s forgotten; it’s everything.

No idea where he’s from or where his family is if he has one and if not then what happened to them.

He looks down to his hands resting on his lap when he sees it. The number six inside the outline of a spade, tattooed on the back of his right hand, close to his thumb. No memory of how it got there or why he got it, but it’ll have to do for now.

“Six. My name is Six.”

“Huh… I can’t say that’s what I’d’ve picked for ya, but if that’s your name that’s your name.” 

\---

The Mojave Express in Primm didn’t give him much other than the fact that he’s Courier Six and apparently there’s another Courier out there who might know who he is. Unfortunately the ledgers that held his name and this mysterious Courier’s was ripped to shreds by the escaped convicts in their destructive spree when they took Primm hostage.

Anger boiled up inside of Six; if it hadn’t been for that stupid man in his stupid tacky suit Six would still know who he is and he wouldn’t have the large ugly scar that ran horizontal from his left eyebrow to just above the shell of his ear.

Having gained more questions than answers, Six leaves Primm in the care of its new sheriff, Primm Slim, as he continues on his way across the desert, this time with ED-E in tow.

\---

The burning of Nipton stirs something within Six. Not enough to bring back any memories, but enough to know that the Legion fills him with the same amount of disgust and loathing that the man in the tacky suit does.

Six can feel himself making a face that clearly telegraphs his distaste, but he keeps his words polite and civil (he’s outnumbered and still weak from being shot in the head, now is not the time to be pissing these people off) so Vulpes doesn’t seem to mind.

\---

Lying out under the stars is Six’s favorite way to fall asleep (he briefly wonders if it had been his favorite way to fall asleep before too) despite the dangers of wildlife, but having ED-E with him makes it easier. The eyebot is kind of… strange. When he had first fixed the bot up it had floated after him silently, but now it chirps and beeps back at Six whenever he talks to it and likes to butt up against his arm as if showing affection in its own weird way.

Maybe ED-E is developing a personality the longer it travels with him? Or maybe it had always been like this but needed time to come back to itself after having been out of commission for so long.

The strangest part? Even though ED-E can only communicate in beeps Six seems to understand what the eyebot is saying, or, well, trying to say. Somehow gets the gist of it. Or maybe the bullet to his head did more damage than he or Doc Mitchell thought?

Whatever the case is, it’s comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one left for dead out in the Mojave; he and ED-E have that in common.

In light of this, Six thinks he should probably stop referring to ED-E as an it.

\---  


On his way to Boulder City, Six picks up a sniper called Boone, and on their way out of Boulder City to New Vegas they pick up a wanderer named Veronica.

“What are you, some kind of stray collector?” Boone asks him as they leave the 188 Trading Post behind.

Six laughs in what feels like the first time in forever.

“No, just a mailman with strange hobbies.”


	2. Chapter 2

Getting onto the Strip was going to be difficult since none of them had passports, nor did they have the required amount of caps. Veronica had suggested that they could enter in one of fighting rings they had seen advertised but Boone was definitely more of a “attack from a distance so they’ll never know what hit them” kind of guy, Six was better with guns and melee weapons than he was with just his fists, and ED-E… well, ED-E probably wouldn’t be allowed in the ring.

Of course, there was always the Crimson Caravan. Six remembers Cass telling him that if he was ever looking for work that the trading company would be a good place to start.

Working for Alice McLafferty had the group going from Freeside to the Sunset Sarsaparilla HQ and finally back to Cass, who ended up joining them.

“Your collection of strays is growing,” Veronica sing songs.

“Ugh, I know. Let’s hope it doesn’t grow any larger,” Six replies, but the smile on his face betrays his words.

Of course then they all end up on Black Mountain and after Six fixes Rhonda for Tabitha the group gets a new addition in the form of Raul Tejada.

\---

Traveling across the Mojave with people he’s come to call friends in such a short amount of time is really nice. Six gets the feeling that he might have been lonely before, but since he has no memory of it he can’t really compare the before and after.

Funny, how a bullet to the brain can really change someone’s social life for the better.

Of course one night on their way back to the Vegas area, when they’re all sitting around a campfire, they talk a bit about what they had done before traveling together. Although when it becomes Six’s turn he doesn’t really know what to say.

“Come on, there’s gotta be some interesting story you have about being a Courier.”

“Not really. I don’t remember too much about the work.” Being honest but vague comes to Six naturally.

“Oh please, Veronica’s right. Hell, that scar you got there probably has an interesting story behind it. Tell us about that,” Cass says from across the fire.

“Yeah boss, tell us a fantastically wild dustland fairytale about it.”

That phrase, dustland fairytale, causes something to niggle in the back of his mind but produces nothing. Where has he heard that before? Six gets lost in his thoughts for a moment, but he quickly comes back to himself as his friends look at him expectantly.

Six sighs softly and gazes into the dancing flames as he tells them about how he was killed in the Good Springs graveyard, how he clawed his way out of his shallow grave, and of how he woke, days later, with absolutely no memory of his life before.

\---

As they get closer to Vegas, Cass asks if they can stop by what remains of her caravan. They do, and take a moment of silence. Cass must see something that they don’t because an odd look settles on her face.

“Everything okay there, Cass?” Six asks.

The sound of his voice seems to jolt her out of whatever thoughts she was having and she shakes her head.

“I don’t think so… I’ll talk to you about it later though.”

\---

They manage to pull enough caps together to gain entrance to the Strip (passing the caps check is easier for them instead of getting passports for all of them. The securitrons seem satisfied enough with Six telling them that his friends are bodyguards and won’t be gambling to let them all pass with only 2,000 caps). Which is weird, the securitrons shouldn't have bought it, shouldn't have allowed all five of them to pass with only 2,000 caps, but Six was too relieved that it worked to notice the obvious red flag shoving itself in his face.

Once on the Strip they immediately run into Victor. Six doesn’t really trust the robot, not after running into him in Boulder City (too much of a coincidence for him to be comfortable with), but Victor doesn’t seem to be dangerous. 

Just weird and maybe a little too eccentric.

Victor tells him that Mr. House wants to see him. 

In the Lucky 38.

Six might not remember himself but he does remember the unspoken rules of New Vegas: no one goes into the Lucky 38, and no one sees Mr. House.

He’s wary (his friends are too, he can feel the tension in the air behind him) when Victor says he has to go in alone.

So he does.

\---

Mr. House is not what Six expects.

Of course now it makes sense why no one has ever seen Mr. House.

Six is also apparently not quite what Mr. House expected either, it seems.

The man in the computer explains how Benny (the man in the tacky suit) is, or was, essentially his heir, but now offers the opportunity to Six.

It’s a devil’s bargain really; get revenge on Benny by thwarting his plans to take over New Vegas and get paid for it? There wasn’t any possibility that Six would say no.

So he said yes.

\---

Mr. House gives him and his companions the Presidential Suite. It’s nice, despite some of the rooms having an odd layout and design. Cass hates it and Veronica asks if they can order room service.

Six tells them they can do as they please as long as they don’t burn the casino down and stay away from the penthouse.

Mr. House had made it very clear that no one other than Six was allowed to set foot in the penthouse.

His friends decided to stay in the Suite and rest up (or in Cass’s case, head to one of the casinos to cut loose instead of “staying in this damn tomb more than necessary") since they had been walking for days.

Six and ED-E headed to Freeside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short and sorry for just letting this sit here without an update for months. i'll edit any mistakes later

_The unforgiving heat of the Mojave sun beats against his back as he gets into position on the rocky ledge. He’s managed to track the Legion scum that took Carla all the way here from Novac._

_Manny had tried talking him out of this, said it’d be suicide, but he can’t leave her to the “mercy” of the Legion. He knows what happens to their slaves, how they take away children born from slaves, that if he doesn’t do everything in his power that he possibly can that Carla and their unborn child will be separated and then at that point it will be impossible to find them again._

_It’s now or never._

_Looking through the scope he finds her – alive, thank God – but there’s… No. No no no no. He rears back from the scope on his rifle as if burned by it, heart beating double time, stress mounting in the base of his skull. It’s a damn slave auction and there are more Legionnaires than he has bullets and he…_

_If he starts shooting he has enough ammo to take out maybe a dozen, but that still leaves at least a large amount of Legionnaires and he won’t be able to get anywhere close enough to Carla._

_Carla…_

_A sickening sense of dread settles low and heavy in his gut. He knows what happens to Legion slaves. He knows and he can’t let that happen to her, won’t let that happen to her. He looks through the scope once more, this time trained on her and her only._

_The screams of Bitter Springs rings in his ears as he tightens his sweat slicked hands on the rifle._

_He can hear his breathing coming out in short shallow gasps as she ascends the auction stage._

_She stands front and center, head held high and looking as defiant and beautiful as always._

_He pulls the trigger._

_The screams of Bitter Springs reaches a crescendo, this time Carla’s voice among their haunting chorus._

_Cottonwood Cove erupts in chaos and Boone leaves the way he came, the Mojave sun the only witness with all the details of what happened._

Craig Boone wakes from the memory in one of the beds in the Lucky 38’s presidential suite, Veronica’s loud snores the only sound in the room. Getting up from the bed as quietly as possible so as not to wake Veronica, he moves over to where he left his things and quickly puts on his shirt and laces up his boots and grabs his rifle.

He nods at Raul on his way out to find Six. Maybe he could help Boone distract himself from memories best left untouched. If nothing else it would be better than going to find Cass and drinking himself into a stupor; that would only make things worse.

It isn’t hard to find Six, he’s got a memorable face and ED-E following him around, so Boone finds him easily in Freeside. He smiles at Boone as he approaches and asks him if he wants to join him for some work. He does and soon the oppressive presence of Cottonwood Cove and Bitter Springs eases back for the moment.

Not long after they finish collecting debts for the Garret twins does Cass show up.

\---

Six, Cass, Boone, and ED-E head back out to the remains of her destroyed caravan. 

“Something ain’t right here,” she says after inspecting it for the third time. “If it’s not too much trouble, d’ya think we could go check out Griffin Wares’ caravan? It’s a bit of a walk from here, but…”

Six looks at Boone who just shrugs.

“Sure, Cass. Lead the way.”

They end up on the northwest side of Vegas, over by the long abandoned Horowitz Farmstead and in the beginnings of cazador country. Cass curses under her breath at the sight of three dead pack brahmins, looted cargo, and piles of ash.

She starts to dig through what’s left of the cargo, looking for _something._ She curses again when she doesn’t find it, throwing her hat onto the old cracked asphalt in frustration.

“Hey,” Boone hisses, “keep a lid on it. You’re going to attract cazadores moving around like that.”

Huffing, Cass grabs up her hat and marches off back towards Vegas.

“C’mon boys, we got one more stop.”

Boone and Six share a wary glance before following after her.

\---

The wreckage of Durable Dunn’s caravan is much like the previous two destroyed caravans they’d seen today save for the intact corpses of Van Graff thugs and Crimson Caravan guards. Cass is left steaming mad and muttering “I knew it” for a good five minutes before her jaw juts out in mix of stubbornness and determination.

“Crimson Caravan and the Van Graffs… they were behind burning the caravans, and they’ve got to answer for them. I’m going to get some extra ammo, a few bottles of whiskey, then show them how Cassidys settle accounts. You three with me?”

Six looks at ED-E and Boone before meeting Cass’ gaze with a grin.

“Of course we are. Wouldn’t be fair if I was the only one to get even with awful people.”

\---

Getting Alice McLafferty was easier than it should’ve been. Six and Cass snuck into her bunk in the dead of night on feet so light not even the floorboards knew they were there, while Boone and ED-E kept watch outside.

It was over and done with in less than two minutes.

Getting Gloria Van Graff was proving to be much more difficult. They were sitting at the bar in the Atomic Wrangler bickering over a plan.

“It’s simple really. We go in, we shoot anyone who stands in our way, and then we make the bitch eat her own hair.”

“We could, but I like living. Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Six says, hands raised in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say we should give up, I said we should do this smart so we don’t die.”

Cass sticks her tongue out at Six before spinning her stool to face Boone.

“Back me up here, soldier boy. Don’t you agree that it’d be a helluva lot more efficient to just go in guns blazing?”

The sniper only raises an eyebrow at that, quiet for a few moments before answering.

“Probably, but I agree with Six on this, we’d just end up dying, and honestly, the only way I’m going out is killing Legionnaires, not some Freeside thugs.”

“Anyone ever tell you it’s a little morbid how you keep saying how your preferred death is by killing? Not really judging, ‘cause it is Legion and the more of ‘em that are six feet under the better, but still.”

“Really? You’re going to try to tell me _I’m_ the morbid one when you’re the one going on about taking the Van Graffs out in a blaze of glory?”

“Oh my god,” Six groans setting his drink down on the bar’s sticky surface and getting up from his seat, “I’ll just go take care of it and then we don’t have to bitch at each other over this ever again. C’mon ED-E, if we leave now then maybe my drink won’t be flat when we come back.”

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Cass calls after him. “I thought you were against just charging in there?”

“I am and that’s not what I’m doing!”

Boone lets out a heavy sigh before getting up to follow after him. “Let’s go see what he’s up to. I don’t trust that he’s sober enough to not get himself shot.”

\---

Boone and Cass are waiting on the corner across the street from the Silver Rush, waiting for Six and ED-E to come back from ‘scoping the joint out.’ They’re confused as to how Six managed to get past the front door since he’s not sober (he’s not drunk either. Definitely buzzed though), and confused still when he comes back out dressed in Van Graff combat armor.

Boone’s about to cross the street to ask him what the hell he’s doing when Six shoots them the _“wait”_ signal, so he stops immediately and leans back against the wall.

“What the hell is he doing?” Cass wonders aloud.

The two of them wait there and watch as various people come and go, some allowed entry and others turned away, until a man shows up. He looks to be in his mid-forties, his face is easily forgettable, but there’s something shifty about him.

The man is nervous; he’s up to something and it’s so obvious.

Six seems to find something while he’s patting him down. His left hand stops, but barely for a moment, when he finds what the man is hiding, but instead of turning him away Six grins and allows the man in.

When the door closes, Six begins to whistle, still grinning as he holds up his hand and begins to curl his fingers down.

_Five, four, three, two, one…_

There’s a loud boom and dust puffing out underneath the door. The other guy who had been guarding the door with Six rushes in while Six just beckons his friends over to him.

“Ready to clean house?”

\---

“Payback's a bitch, ladies, and between Gloria and Alice, that settles accounts, as far as I'm concerned. Hope they're in hell right now, blinking, trying to figure out where they fucked up,” Cass says as she kicks at Gloria’s body. “Thanks by the way, for helping me with this, though I am kinda pissed that I didn’t get the chance to make her choke on her hair.”

“I’ll buy the next round of drinks if that’s any consolation.”

Cass snorts.

“You’re buying the next _two_ rounds.”

“Are you two going to keep talking or are we going to go drink?” Boone asks from where he and ED-E are waiting.

“Course we are,” Six says as he ambles towards them. “C’mon Cass, don’t want to keep our two favorite people waiting.”

“I’m gonna loot a bit first, I’ll meet you guys there in a few minutes,” Cass calls over her shoulder as she begins to pick through the wreckage.

The two men and the eyebot step out into the cool night air, heading back to the Atomic Wrangler. Boone looks over at Six when he starts humming a tune (it’s probably an Elvis song, Freeside loves to play his music often).

“So are you keeping the armor?”

“Of course I am, Boone,” Six says with a grin. “With the Van Graffs gone it’s practically a collectible. It’ll go up in value as the years go on.”

“If you can keep yourself from spilling booze on it, maybe.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“Hold it like this, Six,” a man with a rough face and a horseshoe mustache says in a gravelly voice._

_A young Six – no older than maybe 10 – grumbles under his breath as he lifts the .357 Magnum revolver that barely fits in his hand. He manages to keep his hand steady as he lines up a shot at an empty Sunset Sarsaparilla bottle._

_“Remember, keep both eyes open.”_

_Six’s left eye opens at the reminder before he pulls the trigger, watching as the bottle shatters from the bullet, the tinkling of broken glass hitting the rock it had been perched on before falling into the sand below._

_The man lets out a low whistle as he tips his black desperado hat back._

_“Nice shot,” he says with a grin. “We’ll make a gunslinger out of you yet.”_

_Six perks up that, a hopeful smile on his face._

_“Can you teach me how to fan the hammer, Ace?”_

_Ace snorts as he ruffles Six’s black hair, the boy swatting at his calloused hand._

_“Fanning is hard on the revolver and the cylinder stop, kid. You’ve been listening to Queenie’s dustland fairytales again haven’t you? It ain’t practical or accurate, but if we can find another revolver for you to practice fanning with then sure. Now c’mon, we got a package to deliver to New Reno. Mr. Bishop isn’t a patient man.”_

_Six scrunches up his nose. “You talk about him like he’s some crotchety old man, he’s only 23.”_

_Ace lets out a bright bout of laughter at Six’s remark, shouldering his pack and handing Six his own, as they start off down the cracked old road once more._

\---

They’d been doing a lot of walking since yesterday morning, Six having decided at some ungodly hour of the morning to go out for a trek into the Mojave – he managed to convince Boone to come along embarrassingly easy, promising to definitely fuck up some Legionnaires – and ED-E didn’t need to be convinced at all, the eyebot almost always following Six everywhere, Raul had decided to go along as well, tired of being cooped up.

Cass and Veronica stayed behind in New Vegas; Veronica because she was still so enthralled by the Strip and Cass because she was still celebrating and nursing a hangover from getting even with McLafferty and the Van Graffs.

“Hey boss, you mind slowing down a little? Not all of us have all of our cartilage intact,” Raul calls out to Six who is quite a ways ahead of them. The man stops and looks at them, a look of surprise which quickly turns into embarrassment on his face. He ducks his head slightly and scratches the back of his neck. 

“Sorry about that,” Six apologizes and makes sure to walk at a much more sedate pace.

As they make their way down the old ruined highway, the closer they get to Novac. The closer they get to Novac, the more Boone’s mind itches. He doesn’t ever really want to see that town again, too much bad blood and bad memories of it now. He remembers how happy and excited he had been to settle down there with Carla. Looking back on it now, he wishes he had never taken up Manny on his offer to move there, wishes he had recognized Carla’s uncharacteristically bad mood for what it was. They should’ve stayed in New Vegas, or at least settled in Freeside. Better yet he should’ve stayed away from her, at least then Boone knows she definitely would still be alive.

But it’s not just his mind that itches at the bad associations of the place, it’s his body too. Specifically his arms.

He remembers the empty syringes scattered over the place he had shared with Carla, how he took anything he could get his hands on just to distract himself, to keep calm, over the loss of her and their child. It’s been easier than he thought it would be to hide the withdrawal symptoms and the track marks, no one really paying much attention to the crooks of his elbows. Boone thought that Six had caught sight of them in the bar that night after the Van Graffs’ place blew sky high, but the man said nothing, didn’t try to bring it up with him at all.

Maybe Six hadn’t seen them after all.

Thankfully they don’t stop in Novac, just pass through it without sparing anyone or anything a second glance.

\---

_In a smoky bar filled with the sound of pleasant chatter and Queenie’s whiskey smooth singing, Six – barely as tall as Ace’s hip – moves through the crowd of adults with ease, weaving his way around them like a fish cuts through water, until he reaches the table Ace is sat at._

_Six tugs at Ace’s sleeve._

_“Six of Spades, you should be in bed,” Ace tells him as he places his drink on the table, trying to go for stern, but failing as an amused smile graces his face. “What are you doing still up?”_

_Six says nothing, just lifts his arms and makes grabby hands at Ace. The man chuckles and lifts the boy into his arms. “Bad dreams again, huh?” All he gets in response is a nod._

_Queenie makes her way over to them when she and her band take a break from their set, taking a seat at their table. She brushes Six’s hair back off of his forehead with the palm of her hand, the smile on her face warm. “Bad dreams?”_

_“Bad dreams,” Ace confirms._

_Nodding, Queenie takes a drink from Ace’s bottle of beer before she signals to someone in the crowd. Rhythmic clapping and stomping boots starts up as she takes the stage again, the bar patrons voices joining in with hers._

“Take me down to the river  
There’s someone there waiting for me  
Take me down to the river  
That’s where I should be

Take me down to the river  
My family’s there waiting for me  
Take me down to the river  
They’re all standing there waving at me

Take me down to the river  
My lover’s there waiting for me  
Take me down to the river  
They’re blowing kisses to me

The river is as still as a wake  
Its water sweet and foul  
But it’s where I should be

Take me down to the river  
The hangman’s knotting the noose  
Take me down to the river  
This is the end for me

Take me down to the river  
The ferryman’s waiting for me  
Take me down to the river  
Have you got any pennies to spare?”

_By the end of the song Six is fast asleep in Ace’s arms as the gunslinger carries the child back upstairs to put him to bed._

\---

They’re at the top of the hill, where the road descends down to Cottonwood Cove. Multiple reasons bring the four of them here today; getting information for Astor back in what remains of Camp Searchlight, finding Frank Weathers’ family, getting as many people down from the crosses as possible, and finally, taking out every last Legionnaire.

“Boone, you stay here and keep watch, we’re not going to start yet. Gotta get as many people out of here as possible before we go in guns blazing. ED-E, you stay here with Boone too. Raul, you’re with me.”

“Sure thing boss, there’s no possible way this could possibly go wrong,” Raul says, causing Six to swat at his arm with a smile.

“You good with this plan, Boone?” Six asks when he notices the way the sniper’s jaw clenches. “We’ll get to the fun part where we kick their asses, but we oughta get a good look at their camp first.”

“And what’s to stop them from throwing you into the slave pens and killing Raul?”

Six steps closer to Boone, enough to be within reach, but enough space still between them so they’re not touching, while Raul is (hopefully) leading ED-E to a spot that has good sights on the Legion camp below. “That’s why you and ED-E are staying here. You’re both better at range than up close. I trust you to have our backs should they try anything. Partners, remember? You watch my back, I watch yours.”

Boone still looks like he might argue, like he’d rather just start killing everyone in leather skirts and rotting football gear, but there’s only four of them against at least 50. Sure, they could definitely put a large dent in the Legion forces here, but they would die. Boone had a death wish, Six was sure of it. He didn’t know why (yes, Boone wanted as many of those Legion bastards dead as possible because of what had happened to his wife, but that didn’t necessarily explain why he was so hell bent on looking to die), but he sure as shit wasn’t going to let the man kill himself.

Eventually, Boone seems to begrudgingly relent.

\---

Six has to remind himself, as much as the act of buying people makes his skin crawl, he isn’t keeping them. He’s buying their freedom not them themselves. The fact that he’s able to trick Canyon Runner out of the full 300 caps by convincing him the Weathers family is infected with a terrible disease makes Six feel a bit better about the whole thing.

However, before he can go free the family he has to plant the bug on Cottonwood Cove’s radio and steal intel on troop movements and raids.

For as much as Raul complains about how all this sneaking around is bad for his knees he’s actually doing a good job of it, although Six has him mostly on lookout while he himself does all the stealing.

For as much trouble the Legion is apparently causing the NCR, they’re surprisingly very complacent because it should not have been as easy as it is for Six to steal from right under their noses. Or maybe it’s just this camp, because they know the NCR is watching them from just up on the ridge in Ranger Station Echo and haven’t done anything to stop them.

Maybe it’s just Aurelius of Phoenix who is complacent because he leaves his office unlocked every time he steps out for fresh air.

With the intel tucked safely away in Six’s pack, he and Raul head back to the slave pens to finally free the Weathers. Once the collars are off he can tell they’re about to run for it.

“Play it cool,” Six whispers to Mrs. Weathers. “If they see you run they will shoot. As far as they know you’re all still slaves and they don’t treat runners well.”

She regards him and Raul warily, but inclines her head slightly to indicate she understands. Mrs. Weathers holds onto her children’s hands as they are lead out of Cottonwood Cove.

“Why are you helping us?” Mrs. Weathers asks when they are no longer in range for any Legionnaire to hear them and Six has stopped to untie those who are tied to crosses. There’s only two; a slave, probably a runner, and a man who wears Great Khan leathers.

“Your husband sent me,” he answers as he slings Anders – the Great Khan who barely has any strength to introduce himself – across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. It will not be easy carrying the man all the way back to what remains of Camp Searchlight, but it can be done. At least the slave girl, Iris, has enough strength to carry herself.

“That man knows where we are? Just when I didn’t think this could get any worse,” Mrs. Weathers pales as their group begins to walk up the road. Boone and ED-E rejoin them when they get to the top when Raul gives them the all clear signal. “At least he was too much of a coward to come after us himself. What if he had been in that pen with us?”

“You don’t sound too fond of your husband,” Six remarks.

“That man is an abusive drunkard, of course I’m not fond of him. He wasn’t always like that though,” she trails off at the end, seeming to be lost in old memories.

Six says nothing more on the subject. He’s got a few choice words for Frank Weathers when all of this is over.

They make it back to what remains of Camp Searchlight without any trouble, and Six hands over the intel to Astor. The only problem now is how is he going to get a defenseless group of five (he’s sure that if Anders was in better health he’d be able to shoot a gun properly, but as he is now he can’t even stand on his own very well) well out of Legion territory and at least close to New Vegas and Six sure as hell isn’t leaving until Cottonwood Cove is wiped from the map. Boone seems to feel the same way.

“Alright, at first light, Raul and ED-E, I need you two to go with them. At least get them to Freeside. If Boone and I haven’t caught up with you before you get there then wait for us back at the Lucky 38.”

“You sure, boss?”

“I am. Can’t leave Cottonwood functional. Probably take out a few other Legion camps as well. At most we’ll be gone for a week.”

With a wave to Raul and a hug for ED-E, Six heads over to where Boone is waiting at the edge of camp lighting a cigarette. Six can see the slight tremor in the Sniper’s hands, the fading track marks on his arms. Med-X maybe? Definitely not Psycho, Boone isn’t showing the signs of a Psycho withdrawal. Six wonders, has been wondering since he first noticed the marks when they first met in Novac all those weeks ago, but hasn’t pried, hasn’t asked. 

Boone will talk to him about it when he’s ready, if he ever _wants_ to.

“So what’s next?” Boone asks around the cigarette in his mouth.

Six grins.

“Ready to party?”

\---

They crept into the outskirts of Cottonwood Cove long after then sun sank beyond the horizon. Instead of going in guns blazing like Six was sure Boone wanted to, they instead made their way over to the overlook. There was a truck that hung precariously over the edge, and just like Six had suspected it was filled to the brim with nuclear waste.

“Get ready to start shooting,” Six says as he swallows a Rad-X and hands another one to Boone. The latch release for the truck’s cargo had long since rusted shut but with a few kicks the back popped open and the barrels rolled down the rocky slope.

Not long after Boone started shooting.

\---

Cottonwood Cove was gone.

Maybe not up in flames like Six would’ve liked, but either way Boone was more than happy. Especially when they got to tossing the bodies for anything useful (Six was taking ears for that morale contest in Camp Forlorn Hope) and they came upon a dying Aurelius of Phoenix. Boone remembers the man from when he came to rescue Carla. He’d been in charge of the auction, right there on the stage. 

Boone hadn’t been able to kill Aurelius then, but he would now. Without a second thought he pressed his boot against the dying man’s windpipe. The centurion weakly clawed at Boone’s leg when he applied pressure.

“You shouldn’t have stolen my wife. Shouldn’t have stolen anyone,” is all Boone says to him before finally crushing the neck beneath his heel.

When he looks up, he’d forgotten that Six was there with him. For a brief moment he worries. Worries that Six will look at him different for crushing a man’s neck like this, but he doesn’t see any disgust. Boone’s worrying for nothing, he realizes, when Six just flashes him a bright grin.

“Time to go hunting, Boone.”


End file.
